Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/91

“Do not lose heart,” Chan advised. “Changing the figure, I might add that to dig up the tree, we must start with the root. All this digging is routine matter that does not fascinate, but at any moment we may strike a root of vital importance.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Tarneverro remarked.

“Oh, you trust Charlie,” Bradshaw said. “One of Honolulu’s first citizens, he is. He'll get his man.”

Wu Kno-ching came in, mumbling to himself, and Charlie addressed him sharply in Cantonese. Looking at him with sleepy eyes, Wu replied at some length.

The high-pitched, singsong exchange of words between these two representatives of the oldest civilized nation in the world grew faster and louder, and on Wu’s part, seemingly more impassioned. The three outsiders stood there deeply interested; it was like a play in some dead language; they could not understand the lines but they were conscious of a strong current of drama underneath. Once Chan, who had up to that point been seemingly uninterested, lifted his head like a bird-dog on the scent. He went closer to the old man, and seized his arm. One recognizable word in Wu’s conversation occurred again and again. He mentioned the “bootleggah.”

Finally, with a shrug, Chan turned away.

“What’s he say, Charlie?” asked Bradshaw eagerly.

“He knows nothing,” Chan answered.

“What was all that about the bootlegger?”

Charlie gave the boy a keen look. “The tongue of age speaks with accumulated wisdom, and is heard gladly, but the tongue of youth should save its strength,” he remarked.

“Yours received and contents noted,” smiled the boy.